


And I'm Locked in Your Mind

by Marishna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Consent is Sexy, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Recreational Drug Use, Recreational Wolfsbane Use, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stoned Sex, Stoner Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Intoxication, magic weed, mentions of alan deaton - Freeform, stoned!Derek, stoned!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 19:11:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3821605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marishna/pseuds/Marishna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Stiles."</p>
<p>Usually the trees didn’t talk when they came to him.</p>
<p>"Yes?" He asked and his voice sounded weird to him, so calm and matter-of-fact.</p>
<p>He burst into giggles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I'm Locked in Your Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "intoxication" at fullmoon_ficlet on LJ.

The ground was pressing up against Stiles. 

 He wasn't being held down to it by gravity, no. It was pressing up on him, trying to arise to greet him.

The leaves were crunchy and silky at once under his fingers and the branches swayed like a line of graceful dancers in a chorus. They were playing a song just for him, using their bodies, dark and barely distinguishable against the inky blue sky, the way it gets right before full night sets in.

They were approaching him, he could tell when they started towards him in the small clearing from the distance and he waited, feeling something akin to... excitement? bubble up in his belly. They would greet him and call him equal and they would spend the night dancing together in the woods, until the sun came up and disappeared his tree friends for another cycle of light and darkness. 

He would accept them with open arms and—

"Stiles."

Usually the trees didn't talk when they came to him.

"Yes?" He asked and his voice sounded weird to him, so calm and matter-of-fact.

He burst into giggles.

The tree crouched beside him and touched his face, tilted his head to his left and he saw Derek watching him with a half-concerned, half-annoyed look. 

"It's the eyebrows, right?" Stiles asked, reaching up to poke at Derek's face. Before his finger could reach its destination Derek caught his hand and held it, tugged on it gently to get him to concentrate.

"Stiles, what are you doing out here? You're not supposed to do this without Scott or someone else around. It's too dangerous," Derek said patiently.

"S'not the kind from Deaton," Stiles replied, and pushed himself to sit up clumsily. There was forest floor debris all over him and he could smell the earth and leaves all over him. He sighed contentedly, then reached to his right side and held up his pipe. "Just regular stuff. Well, better than regular, let's face it, right?" 

And cue more giggling.

Derek rolled his eyes but seemed to relax a bit, sitting down beside Stiles.

Stiles found out through research that there were certain herbal mixtures he could take that would help him tap into his Spark better and make him more precise. Deaton objected to the term Stiles called it, "magic weed", but that's essentially what it was. 

It was a strain of herb from a country in South America Deaton had a contact in and that he added some other stuff to, a pinch of this and dash of that, and ta da! Stiles had a direct line to his magic. He was getting better at controlling it on his own but when it came to crunch time the pack didn't have time for Stiles to dick around and hope something of use came up from his powers.

When he used Deaton's batch someone from the pack was always with him to make sure he didn't have a bad trip (only happened once in the beginning before he and Deaton worked out the kinks), didn't start fires (only happened a couple times and his slippers just _happened_ to be made out of highly flammable material), and that someone was there to record what he said. He didn't always come out of it with the clearest of minds, but damn did he sleep well after.

Which was how all this came about to start with. Sleep was still a premium for Stiles after the Nogitsune, and he'd had just enough of switching out sleeping pills for warm milk and late night jogs around the neighbourhood to want to stab a pen in his eye, so he turned to what he was quickly knowing best.

But nights like this were just for Stiles. He had some connections to good dealers from college who lived fairly close to Beacon Hills. He felt weird about buying from in the town limits that his dad actively policed and although he knew about the "magic weed", he did _not_ know about the regular kind and Stiles was determined to keep at least that little secret from his father. 

"What ‘cha doing'?" Stiles asked, turning his toward Derek on his butt so he'd definitely have grass and dirt stains dug right into the ass of his jeans. 

"Just checking the boundaries. I could smell the weed the whole way in but I didn't know it was you until I heard you rambling," Derek replied, small smile on his lips.

"I wasn't talking, was I?" Stiles asked, tone incredulous and disbelieving.

"Dancing trees against the inky blue sky?" Derek replied with one eyebrow arched.

Stiles thought in the back of his mind that he should be embarrassed but he didn't remember what he said and he was too happy to see Derek to care.

He leaned to his left, heavy against Derek's side and tilted his head to rest on Derek's shoulder. Derek tensed for a moment, then sighed and relaxed. In the back of his brain Stiles knew this wasn't something he should be doing or something he'd do normally, he was coherent enough for self-awareness, but the "give a fuck" part of him didn't, well, give a fuck. If he wanted to snuggle up with Derek he would, dammit.

"If I knew you were going to be out I woulda brought enough for two," Stiles said, words slurring a bit from how his cheek was mushed on Derek's shoulder.

"Wouldn't have done anything anyway," Derek replied and Stiles could feel the rumble in his own chest, rolled through him like a purring earthquake.

"Really?" Stiles asked, sounding bereft on Derek's behalf. "That's terrible! I thought it would be different from alcohol because it's natural!"

Derek chuckled. "Okay, we're not totally immune to it. But like the stuff you get from Deaton we have to have ours tweaked a little to work."

"What, like Bruce Banner #3 or Blue Cookies?" 

"I have no idea what those are."

"Kinds of weed. I know someone who could probably get me some Bruce Banner #3 but I don't know about anything stronger," Stiles said, seriously.

Derek laughed again. "No, I mean we need to have it mixed with certain types of wolfsbane."

"OH!" Stiles yelled excitedly, causing Derek to jerk a little because he yelled right into Derek's ear. Stiles winced and dropped his voice to a whisper, "Sorry."

Derek just shook his head. "It's probably time for you to get home. You all smoked out?" Stiles held up his pipe and tapped it against the ground gently to dislodge the bit of ash left in it.

Derek nodded his head in the direction the Jeep was parked and offered a hand to help Stiles up. Stiles took it and let himself be pulled to his feet, overbalancing a little and falling against Derek's chest. Derek held him close for a moment, steadying hand at Stiles' back wide and warm where it splayed over his dirty shirt.

Stiles looked up at Derek and grinned, the somewhat clearheaded part of his brain knowing something was coming. "I like you."

In the dark and in his state Stiles couldn't tell but he would at least 72% swear Derek blushed. "I like you too, Stiles."

"Yeah, you do," Stiles replied, biting his lower lip.

"Okay, _really_ time to get you home," Derek said and grabbed Stiles firmly by the arm and started leading him out of the clearing.

Stiles talked the whole walk to the Jeep and Derek held his arm the entire time to make sure he didn't trip over anything or wander off. When they got to the car Derek shoved him gently to the passenger side and, once inside, waited until Stiles was buckled up before starting to drive. 

The buzz in Stiles' head was starting to fade, leaving him nice and sedate and as they drove his eyes got heavier, watching the scenery as they passed by it. He didn't realize he actually drifted off until he opened his eyes to find Derek reaching across from the open passenger side door to unfasten his seatbelt.

"You gonna carry me to bed, too?" Stiles murmured, inhaling the smell of Derek's hair as his head brushed Stiles' when he leaned back.

"Not likely," Derek replied flatly but not unkindly. He did, however, escort Stiles all the way into the house and upstairs once Stiles assured him his father was working a night shift. He waited until Stiles was in his bedroom and had Stiles promise he wasn't going to go anywhere else for the night.

"This is the best date ever," Stiles mumbled as Derek started to leave. Derek turned around quickly to see Stiles strip his shirt off and toss it to the floor, then belly flop onto his bed with a groan.

Clearly he was talking about his bed.

***

It was a month before Derek smelled anything in the preserve again like that night. Local kids heard too many horror stories about the forest in Beacon Hills to try sneaking off to get high or drunk in it. To be fair they'd probably be safer in the forest than at the high school but whatever.

Stiles hadn't mentioned that night and neither had Derek but it seemed like Stiles was flirting with him. Every time he did Derek fought the urge to look around for the real person Stiles was winking and smirking at. 

But they still didn't talk about it.

Summer was settled in now, hazy evenings giving way to nights that were just this side of too-sticky thick and the low hum of crickets and cicadas was a comfort to Derek as he made his way silently through the trees. He almost missed it but he'd know that smell anywhere—pot. Or, rather, Stiles' pot. 

He crept through the woods easily until he got to the edge of the clearing but was still hidden. Stiles was sitting cross-legged on the ground, just sparking up.

Derek watched, fascinated, as Stiles' mouth closed around the tip of the neatly rolled joint and he took a long draw, holding the smoke in with his eyes closed and a smile on his lips. As he exhaled, leaving a cloud around his head, Derek could see his shoulders drop a bit, losing some of the tension he'd been building up the past couple weeks.

They'd been tracking a series of deer killings that traced their way up the California coast and were coming uncomfortably close to Beacon Hills for anyone's liking. No one was sure if it means omega wolves, a whole pack or something else. Deaton didn't want Stiles to turn to the "magic weed" for every little problem and so was increasing his training to try to get better and faster at tapping into his Spark on his own.

The pressure was building in Stiles and everyone could feel it. 

Derek watched Stiles smoke half the joint before Stiles pulled his phone out of his pocket and started playing on it. The glow from the screen lit up his face and Derek could see Stiles' eyes were already getting heavier.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and Derek almost jumped, then breathed a quiet sigh that he remembered to turn it to silent. He fished it out of his jeans and checked it quick, then frowned.

_Ur being weird. Stop creepin n come sit_

Derek looked up to see Stiles waving at him with a grin on his face. Derek sighed and stepped out of what he thought was the cover of darkness.

"With the way my week's gone Wonder Woman's invisible plane could be hovering overhead and I'd be able to shoot it down," Stiles said, laughing.

"You're doing that well?" Derek asked, impressed. He sat down next to Stiles, close enough to feel his body heat but not touching. 

"I'm that wired right now," Stiles clarified. "It feels like everything in my body is on guard and every nerve ending is firing on all cylinders. Which would be awesome if it was producing results but instead I can only sense stalkers."

Stiles leaned over and nudged Derek as he said that to underscore the teasing tone but Derek could hear how tense and tightly wound he was underneath it all. Could practically smell the magic oozing out of him.

"So you're like an early detection warning system for the supernatural?" Derek asked, teasing back. Stiles rolled his eyes but kept grinning. He took another drag from his joint and groaned as he exhaled, letting his head slump forward.

"I thought you might be here," Stiles said, speaking into his chest but Derek could hear him.

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"You've been watching me," Stiles said, looking up and meeting Derek's eyes without blinking.

"You've been watching _me_ ," Derek replied, flushing a little.

Stiles nodded easily. "Yeah, I have."

"Why?"

Stiles didn't answer. Instead he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a couple more rolled joints. "Brought you something."

"Doesn't work on me, remember?" Derek said but as soon as the words were spoken he could tell there was something different about them.

"I might have done a little tinkering. If I'm going to learn this stuff I'm going to learn _everything_ ," Stiles said, gesturing widely.

"Does Deaton know?" Derek asked.

"I'm pretty sure Deaton knows everything but keeps it all secret to drive me crazy," Stiles replied, then giggled. "Oh, dude, Derek. You gotta catch up to me. Don't worry, I tried some myself earlier this week. It didn't get me any extra high but I figured that if the wolfsbane didn't kill me it won't hurt you."

"Your logic is incredibly flawed," Derek replied but reached out to take one of the proffered joints slowly. Stiles grinned wide and leaned into him for a moment before leaning back to grab the lighter off the ground. He offered it to Derek who took it awkwardly.

"It's been a while since I've done this. I actually only did it once, back in New York," Derek confessed in a rush. 

"S'cool. You don't have to if you don't want to," Stiles replied easily and Derek knew it was true but god, he wanted to know what it would feel like to be stoned with Stiles. 

He smoked out of a bong the time he'd done this before so this was new to him. He held the joint kind of clumsily but managed to get it lit. 

Sort of.

He took a drag and didn't get enough to consider it "inhaling" but coughed anyway. Guess werewolf feats of excellence only extended so far. 

"Can I help?" Stiles asked, shifting up to his knees. 

"How?" Derek asked, frowning at the joint that was already out. 

"Do you trust me?" Stiles asked and Derek was sure Stiles was holding his breath, waiting for the answer.

"Of course," Derek replied immediately, too quick to hold back any of his cards, not that he thought he ever had any with Stiles. Not really.

Stiles reached for the joint, lit it easily and took a drag, held the smoke. He leaned into Derek carefully, keeping their eyes locked, then pressed his mouth to Derek's.

Derek pulled back just a little, out of surprise, but Stiles pressed forward and grabbed Derek's shoulders to hold him still. Part of Derek knew what was going on and he opened his mouth a bit, enough for Stiles to blow the smoke into his mouth. Derek inhaled and let the recycled smoke into his lungs. Stiles drew back enough to watch Derek's face as he then exhaled and the smoke swirled around their faces.

"More?" Stiles asked, voice low and rough. Derek nodded jerkily. 

Stiles repeated his part but this time when Stiles leaned in he opened his mouth wider, like he was going to kiss him. Stiles clutched at Derek's arms and let his lips linger on Derek's after he exhaled, barely pulled away this time when Derek exhaled back onto Stiles' mouth.

"Kick your legs out," Stiles instructed and Derek did, not even wondering why. Stiles clumsily crawled over and straddled Derek's lap, settling down on top of him in a way that Derek knew was going to be a problem and quickly.

"Stiles—" Derek started.

"Are you feeling anything yet?" Stiles cut him off, taking another drag and pressing his lips—no, kissing. He was kissing Derek. He was kissing Derek while he breathed the pot smoke into him and fuck it was hot.

Derek let his tongue trace Stiles' bottom lip quickly before he pulled away and Stiles gasped, leaning his forehead against Derek's.

"Are you?" Stiles asked, wriggling in Derek's lap.

"Am I what?" Derek asked, voice wavering while he dug his hands into the dirt and leaves around them.

"Feeling anything?" Stiles repeated as he brought the joint to his lips again. Before he could take another puff Derek pulled it out of his fingers and wrapped his own mouth around it, tasting the wetness from Stiles' mouth and something he could only describe as the earth.

He did better this time around, managing an inhale on his own. It was harsher than second hand from Stiles but the burn was good and immediately he could feel the difference in his head. He wanted to exhale but he surged up and caught Stiles' mouth.

This was more kissing than shotgunning. 

Stiles didn't seem to care, judging by the way he wrapped his arms around Derek's shoulders and ground his cock against Derek's through their jeans.

Derek wanted to shove his hands down the back of Stiles' pants and cup his ass, pull him down harder but he still had the almost-done joint in his fingers. 

He took another puff while Stiles mouthed at Derek's neck and if his brain really was in his cock he was sure he would have come in his pants immediately from the feeling. Derek went to stamp the butt out but Stiles caught his hand and tamped the cherry out with his fingers, then saved the rest on a leaf by the lighter, which seemed weird to Derek, but whatever. 

What did he know?

What _did_ he know? Derek suddenly wondered as Stiles turned back to him with a dark smirk on his face.  

"Wait," Derek said, dazed. Stiles gripped the hem of Derek's t-shirt and wrapped the hem around his fingers. "Are you doing this because you're high? Like, are you... y'know, doing this because you want to?"

Stiles let out a sound that seemed half moan, half growl and pressed his cheek to Derek's quickly. "First of all, I can't believe how hot it is that you're asking me that while you're stoned and fuck, it's incredible. Second, I have been carrying those joints around with me almost since the last time we were out here, waiting for you because I didn't know how else to make a move on you."

"You've been trying to make a move? I just thought you were flirting," Derek asked, feeling as stupid as he thought he sounded. 

"I _was_ ," Stiles replied and this time that _was_ a growl. "But my moves are apparently more direct than my flirting. This, Derek Hale, is me telling you that I want to suck your dick and have your fingers in my ass and maybe you could fuck me, or I could fuck you."

Derek's hands came up to fit around Stiles' hips immediately and he fought the urge to drag him to the ground, cover him with his body and rub himself off on every bit of Stiles' skin then and there. He instead did what he wanted to before and shoved his hands down the back of Stiles' jeans, under his underwear and clutched at his ass, moaning at how soft Stiles' skin felt.

Stiles groaned and buried his face in Derek's neck, licking and sucking while his hips stuttered up against Derek's.

Derek's own cock was filling and soon straining in his jeans and he rocked his hips up, as best he could in his seated position while pulling Stiles' body down against him, but Stiles got the message and together they worked out ... not a rhythm so much, because Derek was sure they looked like rutting lunatics from outside, but it did what they needed.

Stiles was whispering against Derek's skin and Derek could only catch a few words, _Derek_ and _good_ and _**finally**_. 

Derek pulled a hand out of Stiles' pants and shoved two fingers in Stiles' mouth. Stiles' eyes were closed as his tongue worked them over, between them, drool running down Derek's hand until he gently pulled them out and Stiles whimpered. 

Derek dragged his fingers between Stiles' ass cheeks, then started circling around his hole, teasing the rim and grinning against Stiles' mouth as his whimpers turned to panting groans. 

Derek didn't remember the last time he came in his pants but he could guarantee it didn't feel as good as it did when Stiles rubbed down on him and shuddered suddenly while he came. That's all it took for Derek, and he was holding Stiles tightly as his own body spasmed.

Derek must have fallen backwards. Well, obviously, because he was staring up at the clear night sky, watching the stars blink and twitch above him. It was _beautiful_.

"You're so high," Stiles snickered from beside him. On top of him. All around him. Sprawled across Derek, how about that? Stiles had red cheeks now to match his red eyes and Derek was sure he never saw him look more attractive. 

"Your face is so high," Derek replied and Stiles laughed and laughed and fucking _laughed_ at that, dropping his head to Derek's chest so the vibrations rocked through Derek's body, too.

When Stiles finally settled Derek pulled him closer and kissed him for real this time.

It was a surprisingly chaste kiss and Stiles' fingers ghosted over Derek's cheeks, ran down the length of his body that he could reach.

When they pulled apart Stiles sat up and reached for the last joint. Derek was still enjoying the slight buzz he still had, although he could feel it wearing off faster than it would on a human, thanks to his werewolf metabolism.

Stiles, however, had something else in mind because he reached for the fly on Derek's jeans and popped them open slowly, sly look on his face. 

"So Derek, have you ever gotten high and snowballed before?"


End file.
